Things Inevident
by NinjaOfFire7
Summary: Agent Fuller's life is just like anyone else's, until he witnesses the kidnapping of one of the Four Horsemen the FBI had been so intent on capturing several months earlier. Fuller turns to his partner, who has been hiding something, but winding up working with the remaining three horsemen to save their youngest member, he begins to realize that things are not always as they seem.
1. Kidnapped

**Disclaimer: I do not own Now You See Me or any of its characters. If I did, there would be more of Jack**

Chapter 1: Kidnapped

It was his day off. His one day off. Naturally, everything went wrong. Agent Fuller was at a local grocery store, browsing the isles, picking up the items he needed (and maybe a few that he didn't) when he happened to glance at the entrance to the store. Just in time to see a darkly dressed man in a ball cap walk in, shoulders hunched, head down, and looking for all the world like he didn't want to be recognized. On instinct, Fuller's hand reached for his gun, hidden in the back of his pants. Being in the FBI had trained him to recognize trouble, and it seemed to him that this guy was just that.

Perhaps it was by chance that the man turned so his face was revealed, but when he did, Agent Fuller nearly dropped his basket. That wasn't possible. He had to have been seeing things. The man seemed to notice his attention. His whole body tensed, before he ducked his head back down, tugging the cap a little lower, and nonchalantly turned around to head back out the door. Never dropping his eyes, Agent Fuller set his basket down and followed him out onto the busy streets of New York. His quarry was a good fifty feet ahead of him, and was constantly turning his head to look behind him, seeming to know he was being followed. Fuller had just turned the corner onto a mostly deserted street, when he saw the man he had been following being wrestled into a black van by three of the biggest men Fuller had ever seen. To his credit, he was putting up a good fight, shooting what looked like playing cards out of his hands and into his captors' faces, and delivering impressively strong punches and kicks when it suited him. The man just managed to miss a kick to the head that would have taken him down, when he was lifted off the ground and slammed into the side of the van. His hat came off and he caught Fuller's eyes with his own panicked ones, before he was thrown into the van. Fuller almost had a heart attack, but he shook himself out of it and drew his gun, firing off a round at the van's tires, but it was too late. As the black van rounded a corner and out of sight with the man (no, kid. He was just a kid), inside, he reached his hand up to his head. Agent Fuller could feel a headache already pounding behind his eyes. He pulled out his phone and called his partner, Dylan Rhodes.

"Dylan. We have a problem. I just watched a dead man get kidnapped."

Off day? Yeah right.


	2. Family

**Disclaimer: I do not own Now You See Me or any of its characters. If I did, there would be more of Jack**

Chapter 2: Family

"Where is he?! He was supposed to be back two hours ago!" Merritt McKinney growled as he paced the apartment the Horsemen had been staying in to lie low.

"I'm sure he's fine. Probably just got sidetracked," was the sleepy response from J. Daniel Atlas, stretched out on the couch.

Henley piped up from the kitchen, "Danny, maybe Merritt's right. Four hours is way too long for a grocery run, even if you _are_ buying for four people."

"We need to go look for him. What if he was recognized? What if the FBI caught him? Even worse, what if Bradley caught him?!" Thaddeus Bradley had been released from prison several weeks prior, and no one seemed to know where he had disappeared to. "We can't just sit here without knowing if he's ok!" Despite the age difference, Merritt had grown close to the young sleight in the months after the heist. They were regularly left alone together while Daniel and Henley went off to discuss… whatever it was they discussed. After a few awkwardly silent instances, Jack had tentatively asked Merritt if he could teach him mentalism. Merritt had agreed on the condition that in return, Jack would teach him how to throw cards. In a few weeks' time, Jack could pretty well read a person, and Merritt could hit the target 20% of the time. He was broken out of his thoughts by the sound of Daniel's cell phone going off. Merritt froze, and turned to watch, as Henley trotted out of the kitchen, never taking her eyes off Daniel as he sat up and grabbed his phone from the stand next to the couch.

"Hello? Dylan? ... He what?! … Do you have any idea who? … Fine. Fine, alright. Yeah, I'll tell them." As soon as he hung up, Henley and Merritt peppered him with questions.

"Quiet! Atlas demanded, silencing them. "That was Dylan –"

"Yeah, we gathered that!"

"Let him finish, Merritt!" Henley scolded.

"Thank you, Henley!" Daniel began,

"That doesn't mean dawdle!" she snapped.

"Fine! Like I said, that was Dylan. He said his partner, Agent Fuller, saw Jack at the grocery store, and followed him onto the street, where he saw some guys stuff Jack in a black van, and take off. They don't know yet who's responsible, but my money's on Bradley."

For several moments, it was quiet, before Merritt burst out, concern lacing his voice, "Well, we've got to _do_ something!"

"Dylan said to stay put, and not to do anything rash. He doesn't want us to be recognized. He said he would do everything he could to find Jack and that he would keep us updated."

"He can't seriously expect us to just sit around waiting for news!" Henley cried indignantly.

"Jack's family. You don't just abandon family!" Merritt added, shoving down painful memories.

Daniel raised his hands in a placating gesture, smirking. "I never said we weren't going to do anything! I only said I would tell you what he said."

"Well, I guess we need a plan," Henley said, grinning at the men.


	3. Prison

**Disclaimer: I do not own Now You See Me or any of its characters. If I did, there would be more of Jack**

Chapter 3: Prison

Jack awoke to a pounding in his head. Slowly, he peeled one eye open and then the other. For several moments, he was worried he had gone blind, until his eyes began adjusting to the darkness of the room. While waiting for his vision to return, Jack tested the mobility of his arms and legs. (Waking up in a dark room, feeling like he'd been run over by a truck- yeah… not a great sign.) What he found was meta shackels around his wrists. At first, Jack was confused. What had happened to him? All at once, his experience came flooding back to him. Walking the store to get groceries for the Horsemen/ Seeing that Fuller guy/ Trying to lose him on the street/ A black van pulling up beside him/ Trying to get away/ Getting picked up by thre huge guys and thrown in the back of the van… That ws where the memories stoped. Jack gave a tug with his arms, but all that accomplished was having the cold metal cut into his skin. 'Well, that shouldn't be a problem,' he thought to himself. Living on the streets had required many survival skills, one of which was being able to pick any lock he came across. He felt his way along the very short chains that attached his wrists to the wall, and found the connecting point to be welded to the wall at about 2 feet off the ground. Honestly? They couldn't have given him even a little but of leeway? There was like 5 inches of chain between his wrists and the wall, and that was being generous. His eyes were by now mostly adjusted to his windowless prison and roamed over the shackles, looking for a lock. To his dismay, there was no simple lock, but a finger print scanner.  
"What in the world?!" Jack spoke into the darkness. "What kind of psycho puts finger -print locks on shackles that he used to chain someone up?"  
"Well, I suppose that would be me."  
Jack squinted as the door on the far side of the room opened and light flooded in. Though the figure in the doorway was shrouded in shadow, Jack would recognize the voice anywhere.  
"Bradley," he spat, "What do you want with me?"  
'Wow. That wasn't cliche at all.'  
"Oh, don't think so highly of yourself. I don't have a vendetta against you in particular. Just your team. You were simply the easiest target."  
At Jack's evident confusion, Bradley explained, "Technically, you are dead, so, not only will your team be the only ones to know you are missing, but they can't report it to the authorities. You are the bait for the other four."  
Through his panic, one word stuck out to Jack, "Wait. What do you mean, four? There are only three others" he said, trying to play it off.  
"Oh, Jack, I already know about Dylan. In a rare moment of impulse, he revealed himself to me, gloating about his plan. And honestly, he is probably the one I want most."  
"What makes you think they'll come for me?" Jack asked in a last desperate attempt to get Bradley to call off his plan.  
"You underestimate their (misplaced though it may be) affection of you. They will come. And when they do, I will be waiting." The man responded, moving towards the door. "And Jack... I wouldn't hold out hope about that agent that saw you get nabbed, if I were you. I have men sent to eliminate that variable as we speak. Meanwhile, you have fun."  
Jack's heart fell as his last hope to get his family out of this mess safely vanished along with all the light in the room, as the door closed him off to everything that he cared about.


	4. Surprise

**Disclaimer: I do not own Now You See Me or any of its characters. If I did, there would be more of Jack**

Chapter 4: Surprise

*Click*

The faint sound seemed ten times louder than usual, resounding in the silence of the empty hallway. The key's master sighed, pulling it out of the lock, and letting himself into his apartment. It had been a long day, which had mostly consisted of chasing down leads on the missing horseman with his partner. They had ended up with zilch in the answers department, and twice as many questions as before. Fuller was having a hard time keeping up. Someone was alive who couldn't be, someone else was out of jail who _shouldn't_ be, and Rhodes was sure they were connected somehow, even if there was no evidence to support it, other than the _possibility_ of a year-old vendetta. And speaking of Dylan… he was acting funny. Like, the case was much more personal than it should be. Fuller understood that his partner had been lead on the magicians' case last year, and that they had made a fool out of him and the rest of the FBI. The problem was that Dylan was acting… dare he say… worried? The whole fiasco was giving him a headache, and he'd had _way_ too many of those lately. He locked the door behind him, and set his wallet and phone down on the table beside the door, so that he had a hand free to turn on the lights. He flicked the switch, and as the lights in the dingy (yes, dingy. You'd think high-profile FBI agents would be paid more) apartment flickered on, his heart nearly stopped. Thirteen guns (but who was counting) were trained onto him from various positions throughout the room.

"Surprise!"

Fuller forced his breathing to slow down and plastered on a calm façade.

"Don't you think this is a little much? I _am_ just a man."

"Boss said no mess-ups. This will make sure of that," responded a muscle-bound Hispanic man (probably the leader, if this was a cliché situation at all).

"May I ask who was so confident in my abilities that they would send all of you, just to take me out?"

"What, do you think we're stupid or something?"

"I'd say there's a 50/50 chance of that. Statistically speaking, half the assassins I deal with are geniuses, the other half, well… not so much."

"Oh, you think you're funny, do you? We'll see how funny you are after we're done with you."

"Can I at least ask why I'm being targeted," Fuller asked, though he had a pretty good idea, as two men came forward to remove his gun, tie his hands, and blindfold him.

"Dead men don't need to know answers to silly questions."

He was getting irritated at this point. He was about to be killed, and he was _still_ at square one on this case.

"Now being an agent, I'm sure you know how this works. Basically, you do anything I don't like, I shoot you." As Fuller was pushed out the door, he stumbled along, tripping over the carpets, and trying to look dignified at the same time.

They were just passing by the last few apartments, headed towards the door where Fuller assumed was a getaway car waiting to carry him to his demise, when he heard a "whooshing" sound and grown men screaming. It was all pandemonium from there, grunts, and the familiar sound of flesh connecting with flesh in a violent way. The noise was punctuated by clicks that the agent recognized easily as jammed clips. He was pushed to the wall, and began struggling to escape his bindings, all the while listening for key phrases that would tell him what was going on. He heard the muscle-man yell "get them" before the room was silenced by the cocking of a gun.

"W-wh-what do you think you are doing?! Put that down," the Hispanic man stuttered out.

Fuller then heard a quiet thud, and a quiet flood of words that made the pounding behind his eyes ebb away. This was followed a few moments later by multiple bumps, like rain hitting a rooftop. He was not so gently pulled away from the wall, and felt a woman's nimble hands undoing the ropes that had bound him. When his hands were free, he reached up and removed the blindfold. What the agent saw caught him completely by surprise. All thirteen of the men that had attacked him in his apartment were passed out on the floor, and standing in front of him were three familiar faces, which were clouded by a dangerously desperate countenance that reminded him, oddly enough, of Dylan.


	5. Plan

**Disclaimer: I do not own Now You See Me or any of its characters. If I did, there would be more of Jack**

 **Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to my little bro for his birthday**

Chapter 5: Plan

It had taken all of ten minutes to figure out the team's next step. Dylan had told Atlas over the phone that his partner had been the sole witness of Jack's kidnapping, so after deciding that the most likely person behind the crime was Bradley, who was doubtless in "revenge mode" after being framed, they figured the next reasonable thing for Thaddeus to do, was to eliminate the witness, Henley researched with a single-minded purpose, and in no time discovered the whereabouts of Fuller.

They took the rest of that day to plan and prepare. Then, they hid in the alley beside the agent's apartment complex until he left the next morning. Henley picked the lock with a downcast expression plastered on her face, mumbling under her breath "nothing's ever locked".

Most of the morning was spent setting up the "ins and outs" of their plan which consisted majorly of a flame-thrower and Merritt's hypnotism skills. The flame-thrower was fitted into a vent above the hallway and connected to a manual activation that Daniel would set off when their targets walked underneath it. This would provide the distraction they needed for Phase 2.

They realized that some might question the use of a flame-thrower for distraction, but hey, they were magicians. Overkill was kind of their thing. After it was installed, they removed all their equipment and made themselves comfortable in an empty apartment along the stretch of hallway. The Horsemen spent the next few hours practicing magic tricks and playing simple card games, however; the tension in the room was palpable as they waited for their scheme to be put into motion.

Finally, they heard the steady rumble of boots on the floor, and the creaking of a door as they were sealed into Fuller's apartment. The three busied themselves for a little while longer, worrying over the details of their plan until at 8 on the dot, the central target of this whole fiasco walked through the door of his apartment building. They listened intently, ears pressed up against the door and picking up snippets of the conversation. When the men dragged him out of his home, Daniel watched through the peephole that they had rigged so that he was able to see the hallway under the air duct with a small mirror. As soon as the last contingent of men walked under the vent, Atlas pressed the big red button, (all Merritt's idea), and a stream of fire shot out of the ventilation canal with a loud "whooshing" sound, engulfing them. The men's screaming caused the rest of the group to turn around. That was their cue. The present Horsemen burst out of the room, fists flying. Their opponents might have been trained assassins, but they were no match for three over-protective (or maybe not) magicians with a vendetta. Daniel tried to stick close to Henley, but she was holding her own, perhaps even better than the men, making efficient use of her gloved hands and high heels. Fuller was pushed to the side during the fight, but his saviors made sure to keep an eye on him – they wouldn't want their only lead getting hurt. When the would-be assassins _finally_ got themselves together (in an extremely unacceptable amount of time, as far as the Horsemen were concerned), they tried to unload their guns on the trio, however; all of their guns were jammed, courtesy of Phase 2, who just so happened to be named Rodrico.

The previous day, Merritt had stopped the man in a Walmart after following him around for a few hours. He dragged him into the baby clothes section and hypnotized him into being their mole. After Rodrico returned to the base, and all the weapon checks were completed, he was to sabotage the guns to ensure that the clips jammed.

After realizing that their key weapon wasn't working properly, the supposed leader gave a slightly desperate cry of "get them"… which conveniently happened to be the trigger word for the final part of the plan. As soon as the words left his mouth, Rodrico turned his own gun on the leader, who, evidently realizing it was the only one that hadn't jammed, gaped at him with wide eyes and stuttered out, "W-wh-what do you think you're doing?"

That's when Merritt strode up to the chief assassin, grasped his shoulder firmly and murmured in his ear, "You are slipping and sliding down a slippery slope of slithering snakes as you..." He moved through the group of men and they passed out on the floor, leaving a visible trail of breathing bodies.

When the last man was down, the threesome turned their attention to Agent Fuller, who was now leaning up against the walls, struggling with his bonds. Henley untied his hands and they waited impatiently as the man got his bearings.

He stared at them unbelievingly, but managed a "How?"

"We don't have time for chit-chat. We'll explain later when we're not on a very tight schedule." Daniel interrupted him in a rush.

"This is about Jack Wilder isn't it?"

"No, duh!" Henley snapped.

"Wait, you guys actually care?"

Fury burned in their eyes like a raging wildfire, and Merritt was preparing a cutting answer, when Fuller, recognizing the imminent danger, clarified his question. "I meant like, outside of needing each other for performances."

That didn't help his case much; all three of them looked like they were past reconsidering the virtues of his rescue.

"Because that's, you know, not a bad thing. I, um, just wasn't expecting it."

Of course, he wasn't. Far be it from criminals to have hearts.

"You know what? Forget I said anything," the agent babbled on, trying to defuse the situation, so that he could escape unharmed.

Henley was tired of the pointless discussion. "Enough. Call whoever it is you call to pick up these guys, and then come with us."

Fuller looked very uncomfortable with the proposed arrangement, which prompted Merritt to roll his eyes and drawl, "Relax. We're not gonna hurt you... unless you give us reason to."

"Well, that was reassuring. Way to make him feel comfortable, Merritt. Nice job!" Daniel faked an apologetic look at the agent. He didn't look sorry in the least.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I wasn't aware we were running a bed-and-breakfast."

As they continued their dispute - phrases that were probably supposed to be quick-witted retorts, but were in actuality simply insults, shooting between them - Henley made a small, exasperated noise, and vaguely gestured down the hall, "Just… go make the call".

She watched as Fuller sent a glance her way, which she interpreted as being thankful for the escape route and moved down the hall to call in the Feds. She turned to the byes and snapped, "Knock it off! You're acting like children! I get that you're grasping at straws to distract yourselves from the situation. I don't want to believe all of this is real either, but it is, and fighting amongst ourselves is the exact opposite of what we need to be doing. Jack needs us all to be focused, so we can get him back as soon as possible."

Both of the male magicians looked properly abashed at that, but Merritt managed to school his weary features first, "Gee, Henley, when'd you take up mentalism, and may I ask who your teacher is."

"Ha. I don't need to be a mentalist to read you both like a book."

At this statement, all three paused, realizing how close they had become over the past few years. Merritt had been right. They were a family, and they all secretly liked that idea. However, with this revelation, it really hit home that their family was one short of being whole, and each determined in their hearts that they would do whatever it took to bring Jack Wilder back home.


	6. Inconsistancy

**Disclaimer: I do not own Now You See Me or any of its characters. If I did, there would be more of Jack**

 **Author's Note: You may have noticed that I changed the title of the story to Things Inevident. I felt like the old title was too bulky. Sorry for any confusion! Also, my Beta, UnderHisWings, just posted her new Young Justice story: Leave of Absence. So if you are into that fandom, definitely check it out!**

Chapter 6: Inconsistency

There were no words to describe Jack's sentiments on the current situation, but he was bored, and desperately needed to distract himself from the pain in his arms and the gnawing in his stomach, so he decided to try. Miserable, frightened, worried, hopeful…Jack realized it was a wide range of emotions that didn't make much sense, but were all true. Miserable physically, frightened emotionally, hopeful because he wanted to be rescued, yet worried because he didn't wish for the only family he had to be hurt or captured on account of him.

Jack took a deep breath, forgetting momentarily about his bruised ribs. The blissful unawareness that had overcome him as he allowed his mind to wander, was not to last, however, as his bones screamed in protest. Ok. So maybe commenting on the card-shaped slash marks that graced some of his abductors' faces hadn't been the smartest thing to do, but hey, Jack had never claimed to be smart. It was implied, yes, as living on the streets required a certain degree of intelligence… but he had never claimed it. Jack shook his head forcefully, which only amounted to a splitting headache. Seriously, there wasn't a part of him that didn't hurt like crazy. And to top it all off, it was becoming increasingly difficult to focus… both mentally and physically.

The hinges on the door squeaked, interrupting his scattered monologue. He groaned, partially from pain, but mainly from irritation and resignation. Swayed Italian shoes entered the darkness, backed by the spotlight of the outside world. Jack's eyes moved upward from there, taking in the smug expression of the middle-aged man, and glaring for all he was worth.

"Ah, Jack. Nice to see you have retained some of that stubborn spunk you have become so well known for."

Jack remained silent having learned by now that it was beneficial for him to let the man have his fun (not to say that he always did what was beneficial for him). It had become a sort of depressing routine, well, for Jack anyway. He suspected that his captor greatly enjoyed it. Basically, it involved Bradley waltzing in at an extremely inconvenient point in Jack's busy schedule, and talking his ears off. The longest it had lasted was 2 hours, and it was typically these lengthy appointments that Jack came away from more worse for wear, because he was incapable of biting back an insult of some sort, when the debunker made a particularly degrading remark about one of the Horsemen.

"Today… we are going to do something a little bit different, though," Thaddeus continued, as though he could read Jack's mind.

Immediately, Jack's suspicion was aroused. This didn't sound good. Bradley preferred things predictable, so anything "out of left field" could not mean pleasant things for anyone on the receiving end.

"We are going to make a phone call to one Dylan Shrike, just to throw a bit of fuel on the fire, as they do not seem to be performing exactly up to par. And, to ensure you don't interfere…"

He gestured to someone outside and stepped aside, allowing several of his men to come in, one holding a rag and some duct tape. Two held onto Jack, effectively immobilizing him, and making it easier for the third to stuff the rag in his mouth and strap duct tape overtop, gagging him. He struggled, managing to land a decent head-butt to the one that was gagging him and causing him to stumble back a pace. Unfortunately, this gave the men an excuse to rough him up. The "muscle man" on his left slugged him a good one in the cheek, and for a moment Jack saw stars. As his vision came back into focus, he saw Bradley dial his cell phone and put it to his ear, flashing a grin back at Jack in the process,

"Agent Dylan…Rhodes, was it? You'll have to excuse me. It's just a bit difficult for an old man like me to keep up with all the aliases. Oh! And just to save you the trouble; this phone is untraceable, so, don't waste time trying that Jack doesn't have. You want to talk to him? Well, I'm sorry to say he's not really in a position to hold a conversation right now, but he can say 'hi'. Go ahead Jack. Say 'hi' to Dylan."

Jack was faced with a dilemma. He wanted to let Dylan know that he was OK, but, on the other hand, if he stayed quiet, the Horsemen would have no _proof_ that he was here. Maybe they would think he had escaped if Bradley could offer no physical evidence. He knew that the chance was slim, but it was the only one he had to keep them safe. Jack stared at the door opposite him defiantly and elected to stay silent, but Bradley, who had evidently deduced what was going on, was having none of it. He bobbed his head in Jack's direction and placed the phone down by his face, while one of Jack's captors kicked him in the stomach. He managed to stay mostly quiet, but a muffled, pained grunt escaped, and Bradley moved the phone back up to his ear in victory. Jack vaguely thought he could hear Dylan yelling over the phone, as he struggled to regain his breath despite the gag. Thaddeus ended the call with a simple but threatening "one week", before he shut the phone with a snap, and rounded on the sleight.

"You are being unusually irritating today, and I am rapidly becoming weary of your defiant act. Especially since we both know you are scared stiff, both for yourself and the rest if the horsemen. You can't stand being the pawn that draws them in, yet unable to help them. All the same, I'm not going to allow the defiance to go unpunished. Junior and Phil are going to stay here and teach you some manners… and yes, I realize how cliché that sounds. Nathan, you need to get that head checked out. It looks nasty."

That made Jack feel a little bit better.

"But you two, just, don't do any damage that would merit a visit to the ER," Bradley drawled as he strode out of the room without a backward glance, Nathan following like a submissive Pitbull. As the door closed behind them, a light flickered on across the room so the duo could see how much damage was being inflicted, and Junior and Phil grinned evilly at each other before turning their attention to the prisoner. If Jack had been capable of it, he would have gulped. As it was, he simply braced himself for the oncoming pain.

A few hours later, or maybe minutes—Jack had lost all sense of time, but it had certainly seemed like it was longer than minutes—Jack lay struggling for breath on the cold floor, sweat soaked clothes clinging to his shivering body. The metal shackles dug harshly into his bloody wrists, and he was covered in bruises. Through all of this, surprisingly, the "henchmen" (that's what Jack was calling them) had followed Bradley's orders and done no permanent damage, other than leaving perhaps a few future scars. Unfortunately, they had not removed the gag, and it was causing his mouth and throat to stay uncomfortably dry.

Now, more than ever, Jack wished for his friends to come save him, but his feelings contrary to that were also inflamed, as he knew that once Bradley had the others, there would no reason to hold back. So as Jack's world faded into darkness, he hoped and prayed that, in whatever path they chose, his family would stay safe.


	7. Discovery

**Disclaimer: I do not own Now You See Me or any of its characters. If I did, there would be more of Jack**

 **Shoutout: To my Beta, UnderHisWings, for being a monumental help with this chapter!**

Chapter 7: Discovery

"Rodger that," came the response from Operations. Agent Fuller waited for the beep to sound, signaling that the call had been ended from the other end, before closing his cell, and slipping it into the pouch at his waist. He then turned his head to see the three Horsemen conversing with each other in muted tones. He subtly observed them for several moments, silently debating with himself, before reluctantly pushing off the wall he had been leaning against. He hesitantly made his way down the hall toward the trio, when Merritt caught sight of him, and whispered something to the other two. All three then straightened up, and turned toward him.

"You've arranged to take a short 'leave of absence'?" asked Atlas briskly.

"I did." Though he hadn't been instructed to do so, Fuller had had the foresight to see where this was headed.

Merritt eyed him suspiciously, "And no one will suspect that anything's wrong?"

"Well…" the agent thought for a moment, "If anyone would notice, it would be my partner, Rhodes. We've been working together for the past few days to find young Mr. Wilder, and he might suspect something if I just 'up and leave' without giving notification."

Henley smirked, "Agent Rhodes has been trying to save Jack? That's a far cry from what he was doing last year."

"Namely: eating our dust." Merritt mumbled to Atlas, who grinned and gave a small huff that could be interpreted by the generous few as a laugh.

Agent Fuller glared at them, not particularly enjoying their torment of his friend, "We are FBI agents. We're the good guys. We joined Law Enforcement so we could help people; to save them when they're in trouble, and to punish those who cause pain and destruction. Dylan was trying to put you behind bars last year, because you were breaking the law, and that has a price. This time, however; it was you who were wronged, and your friend that was hurt. So yes, we are going to do everything in our power to bring justice to the guilty, even if it involves helping criminals."

The Horsemen looked mildly shocked at his outburst. Fuller looked to Atlas, who seemed to be the ringleader of the group. The magician studied him silently for a few moments before surprising the agent by saying, "Call up good old Agent Rhodes, and if he's willing to work professionally, and _not_ arrest us on the spot, then his help might possibly be half useful."

Fuller smirked before turning around and walking back down the hall, so as to call his partner out of earshot.

"Dylan, hey. Something has come up, and I'm going to take a short leave. Your help would be greatly appreciated, but look, it's not going to be easy for you. Okay, um… the Horsemen are here right now, and before you say anything, they are just trying to get Jack Wilder back. They saved me from some guys who were trying to kill me, so I sort of owe them now. I get it Dylan, I know how you feel about them, but right now, they're the victims, and it's our duty to help them. I'm going with or without you, but I wanted to give you the option to help.

There were several moments of silence before the tense and disinclined response came, "Well, I can't very well let you go gallivanting off with a bunch of criminals by yourself. Where should I meet you?"

Fuller allowed himself a goofy grin.

Twenty minutes later found Agent Fuller toting three antsy magicians in his black Range Rover to the designated destination. He pulled the car into a secluded alleyway on 7th Street and turned the headlights off, so they wouldn't blind his partner. As he gazed out the windshield, he saw a shadow peel itself off the wall of the ally and wander towards the car. The shadow melted into Dylan as it neared them, and it opened the passenger door, revealing the impassive face of the agent's friend. Dylan slid into the seat next to him, refusing to acknowledge the back seats' occupants. Fuller watched, amused for a moment, before rolling his eyes and backing the Rover out of the ally.

An uncomfortable silence settled throughout the vehicle until the agent pulled up in front of a modest-looking hotel. The reaction was both immediate and fearsome as the back of the car erupted with cries of protest.

"What do you think you are doing?!" that was Atlas.

"You can't seriously expect us to relax in a hotel while Jack is in trouble!" and Henley.

"We won't rest until we get him back." The remaining member of the Horsemen expressed his displeasure.

"Well, if anyone has any idea where he might be, speak up." Fuller waited for a time in order to make his point. Silence. "Then I suggest that we find somewhere that we can work out of, and rest in, when we need it."

Again, no dispute, but from the driver's seat, he could see three unhappy faces glaring at him through the rearview mirror. He smirked, knowing they had acceded his point, and put the Ranger Rover again in park.

He arranged for them to have three rooms: two doubles for himself and Dylan, and Atlas and Merritt, and a single room for Henley. After they had settled in, Fuller ordered Chinese takeout for the five of them, since it seemed like the least complicated option. While they waited for it to arrive, the agent tried to strike up a conversation with his roommate, who had previously been giving him the silent treatment.

"Dylan, please-" he began, at the same time his partner decided to speak up with, "I don't like this."

Fuller was about to try to ease his friend's mind but was again cut off.

"These guys are nothing but trouble, and I don't think it's smart to be letting ourselves get dragged into this. I have nothing against finding the boy; that's our job, after all, but why do we have to do it with them?"

Fuller almost laughed at the whining tone in the agent's voice, but a beep sounded on the complimentary phone, diverting their attention.

 _*Red Dragon for a Mr. John Fuller. Please come to the lobby to sign for your food.*_

"Sorry to interrupt our conversation, but… food takes priority." He grinned at his friend, who rolled his eyes, but returned with a genuine smile of his own.

"You and your bottomless stomach, _John._ "

"You know I hate that name."

Dylan just grinned. The troll.

The agent took the elevator to the first floor, signed for the food, and brought it up to the rooms. He decided to deliver it to the Horsemen first, so he walked down the hall to Henley's room, which was the farthest away. He knocked and handed her what she ordered before retracing his steps until he came to the male magicians' room. Atlas was at the door by the second knock. The fugitive then took the rice and chicken that was offered before naming a time to meet in his and Merritt's room in the morning, leaving no room for argument. He was about to shut the door when the mentalist's voice sounded from behind it, asking for more soy sauce. Atlas seemed one step away from biting the man's head off, but he simply sighed and grabbed a few more packets, with only slightly more force than necessary.

As the door was shut in his face, Fuller rolled his eyes, and strolled down the hall to his shared room, arms significantly lighter than when he had begun. He failed to knock, and instead, slid the key-card into the lock, and pushed the door open. He was about to crack a joke about how the Chinese food was being delivered by a red-headed, freckled, teenage boy, when he realized his roommate was having a rather heated conversation with someone on the phone. On a random, gut instinct, the agent decided to remain quiet, keeping the door cracked just enough that he could both hear, and see, the conversation taking place inside the small hotel room.

"Cut the small talk Bradley! I want to talk to Jack."

The accidental snoop did a double take. He was on the phone with Thaddeus Bradley? And why did he sound so familiar with the kid, calling him only by his first name? Never mind; it didn't matter. He was sure Dylan had a good reason for it. There were a few moments of silence before his partner went nuts.

"Leave him alone, Bradley! I _will_ hunt you down, and I promise I will not stop, until I put you where you belong: prison. You may have taken my father from me, all those years ago, but I will _not_ let you take Jack too."

The phone call was evidently over then as Dylan pulled the phone away from his ear, and glared at it angrily before he punched the wall with his free hand, causing the picture frames to rattle.

Fuller struggled to comprehend what he had just witnessed. A horrible suspicion began nagging at his mind, but he shoved it down, not wanting to believe it. It was not to be silenced, however, and after several minutes of in-depth thought, it began to be convincing. His partner couldn't be the fifth Horseman… could he?


	8. Forwards

**Disclaimer: I do not own Now You See Me or any of its characters. If I did, there would be more of Jack**

 **Author's Note: Thanks to the readers for the great reviews! You have no idea how much it means to know my story is well liked! But... I would like to ask any reviewers to please refrain from using foul language, as I do not believe in its use and have explicitly stated in my profile that my stories will not contain any cussing or cursing, and having it in the reviews removes from the cleanliness of the page. Thank you!**

 **Shoutout: To my wonderful mother for helping me come up with the chapter's title and to my awesome Beta for taking time out of her extremely busy schedule to edit for me and make some terrific suggestions!**

Chapter 8: Forwards

"How do you think he's doing?"

Daniel glanced up from his blueprints at Merritt's voice but quickly looked away, not wanting to be the one to voice what they both suspected. He was saved from having to respond by the mentalist himself, "Don't answer that. It was rhetorical. That was a rhetorical question."

Daniel nodded absently, trying to focus on planning their next step. Merritt was supposed to be helping, but they were both having trouble diverting their attention from thinking about Jack, to instead trying to find a way to save him. Henley was in her room, looking through a phone they had taken from the Hispanic assassin before they had left to meet Dylan. She was attempting to pinpoint area codes through a telephone book for possible locations for Jack's imprisonment. To say Daniel was fidgety would be an understatement. That phone was all they had. If it fell through, they would be all the way back at square one.

Daniel was interrupted from his thoughts by a muffled yell. Both his and Merritt's heads shot up, and they looked questioningly at each other before turning to regard the wall curiously. The racket sounded like it was coming from Dylan's room, but it wasn't until a dull thud echoed through the wall that their eyes widened. Dylan must be in trouble! They flew out of their beds, Merritt accidentally knocking over the newly acquired soy sauce in the frantic rush. They flung the door open and were about to run to help, when Merritt noticed Agent Fuller crouched in front of his and Dylan's room, arms still laden with takeout Chinese signifying that he had not yet entered since he had delivered the magicians' food. Merritt grabbed the collar of Daniel's dark gray t-shirt and dragged him back towards the door and out of clear sight. The man turned around to yell at him, but Merritt motioned down the hall towards the agent. Daniel glanced in that direction before turning around and whispering almost inaudibly, "What is he doing?"

Merritt was pleasantly surprised that the control-freak had asked for his professional opinion. He was about to respond when Fuller straightened up stiffly, pushed the door to his and Dylan's room open, and stalked inside. The two magicians exchanged equally confused expressions yet seemed to have kindred ideas of what to do, as both began silently padding toward the suddenly-mysterious hotel room. They were just settling themselves in front of the door, trying to find positions that would provide them with the best audio, when Henley walked out of her room and noticed them. She stared at them as if they had both grown extra heads but wisely chose not to ask questions, instead plopping down gracefully next to them. All three placed their ears to the door. They had missed a great deal of the conversation, so what they heard didn't make much sense, except to Merritt, who seemed to anticipate where it was headed.

"-sick and tired of the lies, Rhodes. Or is that even your name?!"

Dylan tried to speak but was interrupted.

"Don't you _dare_ try telling me that you have no idea what I'm talking about. I heard you on the phone, and though I seem like an idiot now, I was able to put two and two together; how they were always one step ahead of us – of you – last year. Why you were so concerned when I called to tell you about Jack Wilder and how you have been so desperate to find him. The piece that finished the puzzle, though, was Bradley calling you instead of the Horsemen."

The three nosy fugitives looked at each other, startled. Henley made to get up and waltz in, regardless of the repercussions, when Merritt caught her eye and shook his head slightly. She complied and sank back down.

Dylan tried to defend himself yet again, but he was similarly cut off.

"Partner… If we have ever been friends – if you have _ever_ considered me your friend – tell me the truth. Are you the fifth Horseman?"

There was a short pause before a muffled "yes" could be heard from their leader.

The magicians outside the door wavered in indecision for a moment until Merritt piped up quietly, "C'mon. We should just let them hash it out. Dylan will get us the minute they're done."

The other two nodded, and all three silently crept back to Henley's room as she motioned for them to follow her. Daniel closed the door behind them, asking, "So, what did you find out?"

"Okay, so I have good news! I've looked through all the numbers and one of them seems promising. There's one phone number that continues to reappear, so I checked the area code, and it originates from Tuscaloosa, Alabama."

"I'm sensing a ' _but_ '," Merritt drawled.

" _But_ I don't have the tech necessary to trace exactly where it came from," she finished.

"Well, I'll reckon Agent Fuller can get us what we need."

Henley and Merritt stared at Daniel incredulously.

"What?" Understanding suddenly dawned and he began trying to defend his word choice. "Hey, now. 'Reckon' is a perfectly modern word. It is. You can look it up."

The other two just shook their heads in resignation. Henley even went so far as to face-palm, somehow managing to look delicate at the same time.

"Yeah, I'm sure it was. In the South. In 1828." Merritt deadpanned.

Henley's clear voice rang out, easily bringing the topic back on track and stating the one problem with Daniel's proposal, "Well, all of this is reliant on whether Agent Fuller actually stays-"

"He will," Merritt interjected with certainty coloring his declaration.

The Illusionist and Escape Artist decided to trust the Mentalist on this one. After a reasonable period of time, a knock on the wooden door had them springing to their feet in their haste to open it. It seemed that Dylan had deduced where they were most likely to be.

The stare-down that commenced immediately after they answered the decisive knocking contained a variety of expressions. Henley and Daniel were eyeing Fuller suspiciously while the man in question was shifting back and forth on his feet, eyes flitting between the magicians. Merritt opted to play it safe and portray a smug attitude that practically screamed "I saw this coming from a mile away", though the majority of the group was painfully aware that he hadn't. Dylan was watching both sides cautiously, trying to gauge their reaction.

"So, guys, small change of plans… He-"

"Yeah we know," Daniel interrupted impatiently, "The real question is, what's he gonna do about it?" He began to address the agent in front of him. "You gave us a whole long speech about doing the right thing and how you have both a moral and a physical obligation to find our friend. Look, I get that your trust has been damaged and pride, bruised, but I'm asking: has anything happened that would hurt you enough to change your mind?"

Agent Fuller broke eye contact for a few seconds, evidently contemplating Daniel's short and uncharacteristic speech. Eventually he glanced back up and locked eyes with each of the Horsemen individually, finally coming to rest on Dylan, where he answered,

"I think I could maybe manage to put up with you for a little while longer."


	9. Escape

**Disclaimer: I do not own Now You See Me or any of its characters. If I did, there would be more of Jack**

 **Author's note: I'm soooo sorry for the long wait. It is inexcusable... but I do have a semi-legitamate excuse, I promise. The good news is: I'm hoping to have the next chapter up in much less time! Thank all of you for being so patient!**

Chapter 9: Escape

The days were running together. Seconds flowed into minutes, flowed into hours, flowed into days. Time was now indiscernible, and Jack had no idea how long he'd been a prisoner in this black hole of a cell, but every second was spent biding his time. The young sleight had determined early on in this misadventure that there was no way he was going to allow himself to be used as bait for his friends. It had simply been a matter of time until he escaped.

Apparently Thaddeus Bradley had grown tired of his daily visit, as he had failed to show up the previous day. Jack sincerely hoped the same absence would occur today.

His scheme had been several days in the making, beginning with Bradley's sick idea to call up Dylan during his designated gloating time. Jack found that his own predictable reaction to that news had been the perfect cover up for step one of his escape plan. As the three "henchmen" had been trying to gag him, Jack lashed out, head-butting the one named Nathan harshly and sending him stumbling back. The other two had responded just as he had anticipated, by blindly restraining him. As one of them made a grab for his wrists, Jack twisted his arms just enough that the man's thumb landed on the scanner for a half-second, thankfully enough to get a reading. Jack used the sounds of his struggle to cover up the muted click of the chains unlocking. After that he was extremely careful to prevent them from falling off in the beating that ensued and during the past couple of days. Now that Bradley seemed to be absent, Jack figured that this was the best chance he would get.

He lay there in uncomfortable silence, chest aching and wrists raw, for what could have been minutes but seemed like hours in his anticipation. Finally he heard the faint sounds of footsteps echoing outside his cell door, signaling food. He gently removed the chains and gingerly stood up, placing a hand on the wall when he was hit with a sudden dizzy spell. After taking a short moment to allow his balance to restore itself and the sharp pain in his ribs to subside, Jack wobbled his way over to stand beside the door. He waited, body tense, while the door was unlocked from the outside and pushed open. As soon as the man took a step into the darkness, Jack grabbed him from behind and put him in a sleeper hold, easing the door shut with his foot. He lowered the man to the floor, unconscious, before returning to face the door, calling out in a perfect copy of his victim's voice, "I'm gonna be an extra minute or two. Getting tired of the runt disrespectin' our hospitality."

Jack could hear the guards' chuckle outside as one of them called back, "Gotcha."

As quickly as he could manage, Jack checked the man's pockets for anything of value, finding nothing but the key to his cell and a pistol, which he stuck in the back of his pants, praying he wouldn't need it. He pocketed the small lump of bread the guard had brought in and chugged the water before straightening up. He took a deep breath and opened the door, beginning his surprise assault by slugging the man on the left with a right cross to the knock-out point on the jawline. His aim was true and connected solidly, effectively taking guard number one "down for the count". Unfortunately, the element of surprise can only last for so long, and by the time he had finished with the first guard, the second one had snapped into action. Jack just managed to side-kick the gun out of the man's hand as he prepared to fire, ignoring the protesting of his ribs. The guard threw a powerful right-handed punch which Jack quickly stepped to the left of and deflected with his right hand, swiping it down the man's forearm and grabbing his wrist. Jack jerked him forward, at the same time bringing his foot up in a strong kick to the sternum, knocking the breath out of the guard. He finished his movement by releasing the man's arm and throwing the knob of his wrist bone into the pressure point at the base of the skull, sending the guard to the floor, out cold.

Jack dragged both men back into his prison and locked all three of them together in the chains. He snuck back out of the room and locked the door behind himself, placing a hand on his chest, trying to slow his breathing. The lack of sustenance as well as the physical abuse had really done a number on him, and he realized at this point he was really just running on fumes and determination. Thankfully, he had a lot of determination.

Jack slunk up the wooden staircase ahead, all the while watching out for Bradley's men and keeping to the shadows. He emerged through a door at the top and did a double take. He was in a house. A newly renovated house, it appeared, judging by the high-tech locks and appliances. He must have been "living" in a basement all this time. Jack saw three armed men watching a football game on a flat screen TV in the next room over, and he nearly laughed out loud. He had thought that sort of stuff only happened in movies. Bradley and his men must not have given Jack much credit; not that he could blame them, given his condition.

He silently ducked around the corner and came face to face with a kitchen and a door that led to freedom. Unfortunately, freedom was being prevented by two more guards outside of it. Jack realized that there was no way he could disable those two without being heard, so he looked for a Plan B, which he found after he snuck upstairs. One of the bedrooms had a relatively young oak tree growing close to the window. Jack shimmied the lock with some bobby pins he had discovered in a bathroom drawer and removed the screen, sliding it under the twin bed. After shutting the window behind him, he moved as fast as he dared down the tree, which, considering he grew up in New York, wasn't as fast as he would have liked. He dropped six feet from the last branch and landed in a roll, coming up gasping as his body screamed at the torture. Jack took a moment to regain control of the pain and checked for enemies before sprinting into the woods behind the house. He circled around towards the front, where the driveway branched into a highway and began his journey away from captivity.

Jack ran as long as he could, until his adrenaline faded and exhaustion caught up to him, but even then, he stumbled along for a while until he finally came upon an old off-brand gas station. He staggered inside and up to the counter asking for a phone, where a kind-looking elderly man took one look at him and directed him to a pay phone outside, handing him a few coins. Jack quickly punched in Daniel's number, but was met with an unanswered call, so he left a short voicemail. He then took a gamble and called Merritt, needing someone who would both answer their phone and be able to keep a level head. His friend picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?" The mentalist's voice sounded hesitantly on the other end.

"Merritt!" Relief rolled off Jack's voice.

"Jack?! Wha-? How-? Are you alright?!"

"A little worse for wear, but alive."

"Where are you?"

"Uh… I don't know. One sec," Jack placed his hand over the mic and yelled to a middle-aged woman who had just pulled up to a pump, "Excuse me, but could you tell me where we are?"

She looked at him like he was crazy, but sort of shook her head and called back, "Tuscaloosa, Alabama."

"Thank you!" Jack brought the phone back up to his ear and relayed the information to Merritt.

"Okay," The elder magician began, "I have good news and bad news. Good news is we're already on our way there. Bad news is we're still seven hours out from the city limits and we don't even know exactly where you are. Can you give us an address we can plug into the GPS?"

"Sure. I'll call you right back. Don't go anywhere." Jack hung up the phone and rushed inside, acquiring the exact address of the gas station before quickly ringing his friend back up. He told Merritt the address and waited for him to punch it into the GPS. Jack realized he couldn't stand outside on the pay phone forever, but he hated the thought of being alone again, even if he knew it was only temporary. All too soon, his time was up, and he smiled as Merritt ordered him to stay put. Where was he going to go? They traded "see you soon"s, and after hanging up the phone, Jack made his way inside to chow down on his bread while waiting out the long hours ahead.


	10. Lead

**Disclaimer: I do not own Now You See Me or any of its characters. If I did, there would be more of Jack**

 **Author's Note: Happy New Year! Again, sorry for the long wait. I'm sad to say this is not a long one. On the up-side: the next chapter is already in the works!**

Chapter 10: Lead

"Great, so now that we've got that settled, I have a lead!" Henley declared, breaking the tense atmosphere. "One of the phone numbers appeared pretty frequently, so I ran a trace, and it originates from Tuscaloosa, Alabama."

"Alabama?!" The surprised agents exclaimed in unison.

"Unfortunately," the Escape Artist continued, ignoring their outburst, "I can't get an exact location with the limited tech. Maybe… you could help with that?" she finished, turning to face Agent Fuller.

He licked his dry lips, thinking for a moment. "Actually… I do know a place, and it's on the way to Alabama."

Twenty minutes later they were packed and beginning the drive to the FBI research facility. John had allowed Dylan to drive, himself typing the coordinates into the Rover's built-in GPS. The agent was quickly reconsidering that hasty decision, wishing he had something to distract his mind from the recent developments. He gazed out the window, watching the scenery flash by and choosing to ignore the three magicians in the back who were doing the same. Doubts plagued his mind, but as he began to examine his choice, Fuller realized that there really wasn't much to think about. He had agreed to help them. The "helping" part wasn't the issue. John Fuller wholeheartedly believed in rescuing the kid. No. It was the "them" part that was causing confliction. The truth was, he felt betrayed. The man supposed he shouldn't be surprised that the Horsemen had played him so easily, but he had been gradually warming up to them; just beginning to see them as something other than criminals, when he found out they had been lying to him from the start. If he was really honest with himself, it stung so badly because he had thought they were warming to him as well and beginning to include him.

Dylan's unexpected treachery hurt more than it should; more than he could say. Number one, because they were partners, and partners needed to be able to trust each other implicitly and to keep them on the same page or risk complications in the field. Number two, because he had thought they were friends, and friends did not keep secrets this big from one another. All this time… had he been friends with a lie?

 _No,_ he suddenly decided. Dylan obviously still valued his friendship to some extent as he had responded truthfully when appealed to in the name of that friendship. Fuller was mad, yes, but he'd never been one to hold a grudge. This level of offense was a whole new territory, but the agent figured it would work itself out in the end.

He concluded his thoughts in perfect coordination with their arrival. Daniel, Merritt, and Henley slid down in the back seats, out of view, just as they pulled up to the security gate. Dylan rolled down his window, and he and his partner handed over their IDs and badges. They were returned shortly, and Dylan parked in an unobtrusive parking spot before telling the threesome to lay low, which they, predictably, rolled their eyes at.

The two agents exited the vehicle and made their way inside to the computer lab. Being the more accustomed to the technological aspect of their work, Fuller attached their "borrowed" phone to one of the desktops and began tracing the number. As he worked he could see his friend shooting guilty glances at him from the corner of his eye, but Dylan wisely remained silent, conscious of the security footage being recorded.

Minutes later the program gave a muted *bleep* and zoomed in on a map, pinpointing the exact longitude and latitude the calls were made at. Agent Fuller quickly scribbled it down on a pad of paper nearby before he tore it off the page and stuffed it in his pocket. He cleared his history and did a bit of quick research about a case the two were currently working on in the Bureau, to cover their tracks and to make their appearance less suspicious. He glanced up to see Dylan smirking approvingly at his move, but turned quickly away, frowning dutifully and ignoring the adrenaline rush that suddenly hit him. Agent Fuller then shut off the computer, and they strode purposefully back out to the car. The five exited the property without incident, and, after plugging the newly acquired coordinates into the GPS, began the journey to Tuscaloosa, Alabama.

About two and a half hours into their trip, they had to stop for gas. John offered to grab something for the group from inside the store while Dylan pumped gas. Atlas, Henley, and Dylan passed on the offer, but Merritt, never to be shy, ordered a bag of sunflower seeds. When the agent returned, handing over the snacks to the mentalist, Fuller thought he caught a flash of a genuine smile in the permanent smirk.

The group hit the road again, and all was quiet, each person consumed in their own thoughts and worries. All was quiet until about ten minutes after their stop at the gas station, Merritt's cell phone went off, shattering the silence.


	11. Reunion

**Disclaimer: I do not own Now You See Me or any of its characters. If I did, there would be more of Jack**

 **Author's Note: Sooo sorry for the long wait! I really have no excuse. But on the bright side; one chapter to go!**

Chapter 11: Reunion

Merritt pulled his phone out of his shirt pocket and checked the caller ID: unknown. He stared at it suspiciously for a couple of seconds before flipping it open and placing it to his ear, fully expecting it to be one Thaddeus Bradley on the other end.

"Hello?" he answered, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

Then came a voice he knew all too well, "Merritt!"

The Mentalist's eyes widened, and he wasted no time in responding to the desperate sleight he had come to view as family. "Jack?!"

With that one word, there were suddenly four other hyper-aware people in that car.

"Wha-? How? Where are you?" Merritt continued, grabbing onto the car handle as Dylan none too gracefully maneuvered the Rover onto the shoulder of the road.

"Uh… I don't know. One sec." There was a slight rustling sound, quickly followed by a muffled, 'Excuse me, but could you tell me where we are?' directed away from the mouthpiece. Merritt frowned. The kid did not sound good. He was hoarse, and the quiet wheezing in his breath caused a protective instinct to flare up. _Woah! Wait a second,_ Merritt thought. Since when did he have a protective _instinct_? Merritt shoved that feeling away, minorly disconcerted, just in time for the person of his musings to come back on the line, relaying his newly acquired "Tuscaloosa, Alabama." So they had been right.

"Okay," Merritt began, "I've got good news and bad news. Good news is: we're already on our way there. Bad news is… we're still seven hours out from the city limits, and we don't even know exactly where you are. Can you give us an address we can plug into the GPS?"

"Sure. I'll call you right back. Don't go anywhere."

The line went dead, and as Merritt pulled the phone away from his ear, he was bombarded with questions from Daniel and Henley, Dylan throwing in a few here and there.

"That was Jack?!"

"Is he okay?"

"How did he escape?"

"Where is he?"

"Why did he call _you_?"

Merritt shot a glare Henley's way for that last one before shushing them all and explaining that Jack was getting them an address. After a few seconds waiting for the young man to call back, unbidden panic began rising. _What if the call never comes? What if something happens to him?_ Merritt could see the same worries beginning to rise in his friends, and just as it was approaching dangerous, his phone rang. Henley closed her eyes briefly, and Daniel's shoulders relaxed. Merritt himself allowed a small sigh of relief, snapping open the phone. As Jack came back on the line, Merritt motioned for Daniel and Henley to move out of the way so that he could type the address into the GPS, and as soon as it was logged in, Dylan pulled back onto the highway to resume their journey. Once finished, the eldest Horseman listened to the tense silence, sensing hesitation from the Jack's end. Merritt answered the other magicians' questioning looks with a "one second" signal, realizing their time was almost up. Taking a deep breath, and fully realizing how stupid the order was but needing to say it anyway, he demanded, "You just- just stay put."

Over the phone, Merritt heard a huff of breath that might have passed as a laugh, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward before sliding firmly back down into a frown as they both spoke into the line at the same time, "See you soon".

"Yep." The word accompanied a grimace as there was another moment of silence before a click sounded, effectively ending the moment.

Merritt shut his cell phone with a snap and was again swamped with anxious questions.

"Okay! Okay!"

The other magicians immediately piped down and held their breath, staring at him with wide eyes.

"So…" the Mentalist began, unsure of the best route to take. "That was Jack."

Judging from Daniel's unamused expression and Henley's "no, duh," that hadn't been it. Before he hastily continued, he thought he glimpsed a smirk on Agent Fuller's face by way of the rearview mirror.

"We were right. He's in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, but there's good news and bad news."

"Good news first please," came Dylan's voice from the front.

Merritt exchanged meaningful glances with Daniel and Henley before complying.

"He got away and is hanging out at a little off-brand gas station a few miles from where he was being held. Jack said he should be safe until we get there."

The Rover's occupants released thankful breaths. Merritt grimaced though, hesitant to break the first good atmosphere they'd had since this whole escapade.

"He, um, doesn't sound too good-"

At their panicked expressions, he quickly amended his statement. "I mean, he's not _dying_ or anything, but he definitely didn't spend the last few days at Aria."

"Well, the best we can do right now is stay the course and try to get to Jack as quickly as possible," Dylan concluded, Agent Fuller giving a small nod in agreement.

The Horsemen sighed in resignation, settling back into their seats for the long ride and trying not to dwell on the uneasy churning of their stomachs.

Six hours and thirty minutes later, and after two driver switches, the Range Rover was flying along bumpy Tuscaloosa backroads, a mere 14 miles from their destination. Needless to say, the tension in the car was so thick that it could be cut with a knife, yet no one was in the mood to relieve it. It was dead silent, and the magicians had to keep reminding themselves that breathing was, in fact, essential for life. They were just careening around a corner, Henley nearly breaking through the interior with her fingernails, when Daniel peered out his window and shouted, "There it is!"

The car swerved into the gas station and up into a parking spot, Dylan throwing the gearshift into 'park', while the backseat's occupants scrambled over each other and out of the car. They stumbled into the building and, upon spying the young man in the familiar leather jacket leaning against the back wall, Merritt and Daniel froze, unsure how to proceed. Henley had no such qualms, and pushed past them to rush the sleight and throw her arms around him in a bear hug. Jack seemed momentarily surprised and yielded a grimace before gathering himself and relaxing. He patted her back and looked over the escape artist's shoulder at the other two men. They were jolted out of their indecision and moved forward to join the group hug, and even Danny managed to shake off his awkwardness long enough to express his relief. Soon enough the foursome was joined by Dylan and Agent Fuller, at whose presence Jack looked perplexed. Since Merritt had already grown accustomed to the situation it took a few moments before he noticed Jack's confusion.

"Well, pardon my atrocious manners! Jack, this is Agent John Fuller; Agent Fuller, this is Jack Wilder."

Jack didn't seem any less mystified, but he hesitantly reached out a hand to shake anyways, which Agent Fuller returned with an amused grin.

"Good to see you in one piece."

"More or less," was the young man's slightly pained response, before seeming to realize his mistake. He took in Henley's worried expression and opening mouth, and hastily plowed through any reply with, "Okay, I'll bite. Not to be rude, but… why is he here?"

"Well, we probably wouldn't have found you _as fast as we did_ without his help," Merritt explained. "We definitely would have found you eventually. But anyways, he saw you get kidnapped and contacted Dylan, who, in turn, filled us in. And yours truly let the charge of saving the good agent from a grisly death at the hands of Bradley's men."

Merritt paused, watching Jack roll his eyes at the older man's antics, and playfully glaring at his misplaced doubt. The Mentalist continued outlining the story for Jack's benefit, as he seemed unsure of their current ploy or if there even was one.

Once finished, Merritt drew a long, exaggerated breath as Jack shook his head at the news, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. After a few moments, he had mostly gathered his thoughts. "Wow, uh… thanks guys! For everything you went through to rescue me… Even though I got myself out!" He added teasingly. "But seriously, it means a lot." "And thanks to you, Agent Fuller. For helping, even though you didn't owe us anything."

"Except his life," Merritt coughed. "No big deal."

Jack glared at the interruption. "So, I guess the next question is: what now?"

"First," Dylan spoke for the first time since their arrival, "We get you fixed up and these injuries taken care of."

Jack opened his mouth to protest, but quickly shut it after the looks he received from Daniel, Merritt, and especially Henley.

"Then," Dylan continued, "We set a trap for a rat."


End file.
